


A Court of Hunters and Angels

by CloudCat, FeyreGrace44



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Supernatural, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 18:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudCat/pseuds/CloudCat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeyreGrace44/pseuds/FeyreGrace44





	A Court of Hunters and Angels

KLARA  
The girl grins at me, head on one side, predatory. She is maybe fifteen, scruffy shoulder length hair, dirt staining every red strand. Bright green eyes shine out from a mud-covered face. A small knife is clenched in her fist. Blood drips down from her nose and she laughs. I stare, too aware that my light brown hair is perfectly curled, my light tan face perfectly clean, my odd amber-brown eyes dull in comparison. My corseted sunset pink dress is suddenly too tight. The girl reminds me of me.  
She shifts position and I almost don’t notice the subtle change in her features, the ears turning pointed, the canines elongating. One thought runs through my head. Fae. Fine then. She moves towards me, faster and smoother than a human could. I concentrate. Energy floods out, stopping, freezing her mid lunge. My body shifts back to its natural from, similar pointed ears but longer. My eyes flood red fully, no white outside, no visible iris. My second set of canines pushing down through my gums makes me shriek, loosing focus for a second. The girl falls flat on her face but I ignore her, too busy dealing with the pain of my wings pushing back through my skin. The huge blue and green feathered wings burst free, snapping the ribbons of my corset. I am eternally thankful for the navy blue combat suit under my clothes. I snarl, my wings flaring. She stares, terror now written where contempt had been.  
A man stands across the street. He walks out as the girl scampers away. I stare. His skin is dark, tanned. His hair is light silvery-grey, long and flowing like liquid moonlight, a direct contrast to amber eyes so bright they look like burning circles of sunlight. The sides of his hair are pleated back tightly out of the way. A tattoo pokes out the sleeve of his grey and black combat suit.  
He sighs. “Klara.” I concentrate magically, trying to pull him off his feet. Nothing happens. Two swords are crossed across his back and a dagger is sheathed on each hip. By the looks of his boots, there would be a knife hidden in each. In less than a second, a huge wolf stood in his place. Silver-grey markings on its forehead and belly are the same colour as his hair. His eyes remain the same shade of amber-gold. I pull on my telekinesis once more, the magic level severely depleted. Nothing happens. I run my fingers over the bone ridges on my forearms debating getting into a fight. The wolf stares, those glowing eyes unmoving, fixed on me. I sprint full speed towards the wolf and it charges towards me. It leaps, changing, shifting mid-air and landing upright. I draw the dagger strapped to my left hip, it vibrates and hums at my touch.  
“What are you? How are you immune to magic?” He grins as we circle each other.  
“It is rather complicated. I’m a hunter. Name is Iriah Collins. I’m a skinwalker, or my mother was. How did I resist your magic? Or rather telekinesis? Hex bag. And a tiny bit of Fae blood. I’ve been asked to take you to the Winchesters.” I laugh.  
“You? Okay. How do you plan on doing that? And, uh, who are the Winchesters?”

SAM WINCHESTER  
“What do we know?” Dean hands me a beer.  
“Not a lot. From what I have found, she’s part vampire, part Fae and part Peregyrn, but, we don’t have very much on what Fae or Peregyrns are.”  
“Where did she come from?”  
“No one knows. She has no birth record, no medical file, no listed place of residence on any database. She’s been seen by hundreds of people in the last two weeks. The government hasn’t been able to find her, but they’ve been looking. Every account has different details. Main points are dresses out of different centuries, futuristic looking combat style suits, pointed ears, two sets of canines and completely red eyes. Oh, and wings. Big blue and green feathery wings.” Dean frowns, leaning back against the table.  
“Sounds like a myth to me.”  
“Yeah. Except for this.” I turn the computer around and show him a video. A young woman, maybe nineteen, in an old style corseted dress. She arches her back, the ribbons of the corset snap and two huge wings spring free. When she faces the camera, her eyes are red, no black iris, no white outer, her ear tips pointed and two sets of elongated canines are clearly visible.  
“Maybe it’s just a LARPer. A really, really convincing LARPer.” I raise my eyebrows.  
“Really? When is it ever that simple?” Dean huffs, sounding like a child.  
“Never."  
“Never. Exactly. Come on. Let’s go meet this Klara." I throw him the car keys.

KLARA  
“Well, either we can do this the easy way where you come quietly and maybe the Winchesters will help you, or we can do it the hard way where I disable your power, knock you out and kidnap you.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his glowing eyes.  
“I’ll come. I’d like to meet these Winchesters.”  
“Good. You’ll have to get rid of those though. I doubt they’ll fit in the car.” I calm the fury racing through my veins. My wings, the bone ridges on my forearms and the second set of canines retract. My ears become less pointed and my single canines shorten.  
“I don’t suppose you have anything else for me to wear.”  
“No. This is my car.” I sigh. The thing in front of us has four wheels, big and covered in rubber. It is shiny navy blue with a paler blue streak down each side. I stare at it until her opens a door, then I get inside. In less than twenty minutes we are outside a warehouse miles away. A black car with number plates CNK 80Q3 the same model as Iriah’s, a 1967 Chevrolet Impala I had learned on the drive over. We go inside and two men turn as we walk over. Both are over six feet tall. A third man appears out of nowhere behind them, only an inch or two shorter. He has strange shadowy wings and a faint ring of light on his head. Iriah drags me forward.  
“Sam, Dean, Castiel.” He nods to each one in turn, tallest to shortest, an angel I realise. I gulp.  
“Is this her?” He nods and pushes me forwards. I flash red eyes at him and he shifts into wolf form and snarls.  
“Thank you Iriah.” The wolf pads off quietly. “So, you are Klara?” I return my eyes to human form, turn to face them and fold my arms.  
“Yes. Klara Bluejay. And?” Castiel the angel pushes through gently.  
“What are you?”  
“What does it matter to an angel? You could put those wings away you know.” Castiel looks startled.  
“What?” I laugh.  
“You’ve fallen. Your halo is quite dim.” Castiel stares, anger building behind his eyes.  
“Fine then.” I close my eyes. When I open them, they are my red eyes and everything is in hyper focus. My ear tips return to lengthened points and I embrace the pain of my secondary canines piercing through. My snarl turns to a laugh. My back arches and my wings pierce the skin on my back, slicing through to get out. Ridges of bone stick out from my forearms. I throw my wings out to their ten-metre span and snarl. The three of them take a step back. I laugh. “You’re scared.” Dean steps forward, pulling a pointed, triangular shaped blade out. Sam grabs his arm.  
“That won’t work Dean. It might kill the vampire part of her but I was reading up of Fae lore. They’re immortal, they can only be killed by an ash arrow or knife to the heart.” Sam lets go of Dean but he keeps coming. Fine then. I throw magic – Telekinetic – energy at Sam and Castiel and they backwards to the ground. I concentrate on Dean, whipping the blade across the room. He looks startled as I throw him across the room. Sam looks at Castiel.  
“We need to get her back to the bunker.” Castiel disappears, reappearing next to me. Before I can turn, he pushes a needle into my neck and I lose consciousness.

SAM WINCHESTER  
I stand up and check on Dean. He is bleeding from a cut on his head and has a dislocated shoulder. He stands up and we go over to Klara. The sedative didn’t give her time to put her wings away.  
“Cas, can you take her to the bunker. We’ll drive back in the car.” Castiel nods, picking the girl up awkwardly with her wings. They disappear as Dean and I head out to the car. I set his shoulder, take the keys and drive back, Dean quiet in the passenger seat.


End file.
